Shattered
by Officer Hot-Pants
Summary: When that etched glass shattered, so did he. Takes place just after the mirror shatters. If you don't like angst, gore, or the people who revel in the latter, then don't read. You have been warned and it does get kinda bad . Not a happy story.


"Shattered"

A "Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess" fic

**Summary:** shattered, so did he. Takes place just after the mirror shatters. If you don't like angst, gore, or the people who revel in the latter, then don't read this. You have been warned (and it does get pretty bad). Link x Midna.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Legend of Zelda. If I did, I might name it after a character who plays at least SOME note-worthy part in the game. Seriously; it's the legend of someone who has nothing what-so-ever to do with anything going on IN the legend beyond occasionally setting you off in the direction of the first or second dungeon. Zelda makes a fraggin' CAMEO appearance in most games before disappearing until the very absolute end. "The Legend of the Person NOT actually a part of this Legend" would make more sense as a title. Or even "The Legend of That Bad Slice of Pizza I had Last Tuesday. You Know, the One With the Hair on it" would make a considerable substitute. Oh, and I'm not profiting or any of that crap from this crap. Actually, I've not only not profited from this work, but would probably HAVE profited if I'd spent the 20-some-odd minutes I spent writing this doing something productive. Anyway, Nintendo owns Legend of Zelda, and let them thank God for it; together with Metroid, it's probably the only reason there will be a successor to the WII. Oops… uh, sorry to rant…

Basically, don't own anything but my own plots/characters/etc.

He had never been good with words, even when he most desperately wished he were, and now that deficiency, small though it seemed, had finally undone him. He couldn't force the words to his lips; not even a simple "wait" or "don't go". Now she was gone, the only proverbial bridge burned behind her, and by her own hand, no less. As he sat there on the stone floor of the Mirror Chamber, curiously cold for having been exposed to the desert sun all day, another thought occurred to him; why didn't he just run after her? When she shattered the mirror, she had not simply blinked away, the portal had not immediately closed. All he had to do was run, or even justed walked briskly, and he wouldn't be bent over in the sand, a broken heap of a hero. Had this been a test? Had she been looking to see if he really loved her? And... had he failed?

As Link at last drug himself to his feet, he realized he was alone. Zelda had left him to his misery. Left him alone, just as Midna had left him alone. Alone. Midna had her people to look after, a world to heal. Though Hyrule had fared much better, Zelda, too, would be busy for many months to come. And even after the wounds had closed, they were still the rulers of their peoples. They would always have a home, always have people who _**needed**_ them. What about him? What does the hero do when the last page of the story has been read? He couldn't go back to Ordon, not after Kakariko. Ever since Talo had seen him transforming in the graveyard, the boy had kept a more-than-healthy distance. Worse, he had told the others in the dusty little village what he'd seen that night. They still appreciated what he'd done for them, he knew, and nobody had ever asked him to leave, or refused to aid him in his quest, or even spoken of his duel nature with him, but the look in their eyes spoke volumes; fear of him, of what he might do. What he'd never do, but then... they didn't know that. They didn't know what he really was, or why he had such a power. They didn't know what he'd used that power for, how it had been the very thing which saved their lives, saved not one but _**two**_ worlds. All they knew was their own, primal fear. Even Ilia looked at him differently after that night. It wasn't fear, though. It was different, something much worse; Betrayal. She wouldn't actually say how she felt, much less why, but no-one can mistake the look of betrayal in a person's eyes. It's a feature as easily recognized as the color of one's skin. No; he couldn't ever go back to Ordon, or Kakariko for that matter. Castle town was too expensive, and the truth of his formerly duel nature (without Midna and the once cursed token she held, he could not trasform) would spread their, too, soon enough. And the Zora and Gorons... Even if the Zora didn't forbid outsiders living within their domain, it just wasn't the same; they weren't _**his**_ people.

With a mournful, half-sobbing sigh, he started down the crumbling stairs. Without Midna, he would have to walk back to the cliffs. And how would he leave the desert, anyway? Jump into the lake? He was as like to break his neck as survive that. But then maybe that wasn't so bad, just now. Brushing the sand and dust from his knees, he began the long trek back. So consumed was he by memories and their suddenly bitter aftertaste as he left the decrepit old prison, that he almost didn't notice the creatures bearing down upon him. More of those strange goblinoids that had harried him since he set out on this little trip, seven in total. He almost pitied them; he was aching for a way to vent his rage and sorrow, and they would serve perfectly. As the first three charged in, he calmly hefted his blade, drawing his energies into it, eyes closed in focus, waiting for that perfect moment. As the beasts closed the last few feet between them, he sprang forward. A whirlwind of flashing steel whistled on the quiet desert air, and when he touched ground once more, what had been three foes was now nearly a dozen unrecognizable pieces of bloody meat, the sands beneath stained a sickening green by their foul, bestial blood. The remaining four paused only a second to look to each other, before silently agreeing to flee this battle. But oh, no; they weren't going anywhere. He was angry. Beyond it, actually; if there was a word for what he was feeling now, he didn't know it. "Murderous rage" came close enough. Quickly drawing his bow and noching an arrow, he pierced the furthest through the back of the skull, dropping it instantly, leaving it twitching in the sand. Next came the boomerang, stunning the closest two. Dazed as they were, they never stood a chance of dodging his sword. He didn't even stop to look at them. He just ran by, cutting them down as he passed, leaving a deep gash across the chest of the creature on right, and much the same across the back of the creature on the left seconds later. And then there was one. Drawing a clawshot, he fired at the back of the creature's head. But something unexpected happened. The monster stumbled, and instead of sending the beast sprawling into the sands as it ordinarily would have done, as he had intended, the cruel, metal claw pierced the creature's skin and grabbed the beast by the bones of it's neck, wrenching it from it's feet and dragging it, kicking and shrieking, clawing frantically at it's neck, towards him. As the chain fully retracted and the claw clicked back into it's home, the filthy monster was still fighting a desperate battle to free itself from the device. Still shrieking like all the fires of Hell were burning their way through it's black soul.

Link didn't react at first. He just stared... stared at the scene before him. He wasn't sure why, but this was... entrancing. It was as though the goddesses, themselves could not have pried his eyes away. Slowly, realization dawned on him; he was... he was enjoying this! Enjoying the sight of the beast writhing and screaming, brought to this state of sheer terror and pain by his own hand. It's pain only to be ended by his own hand... or not. Just a quick slash, and the creature would shortly die. But then why should he; Why should he end it's torment? Why should he, alone be condemned to an endless, soul-searing, waking Hell? No. No, he would not suffer alone. If his reward for risking his own life a thousand times a day for the last several weeks was living damnation, deprived of the one woman he loved above everything, he wouldn't suffer in silence, and he _**damn**_** sure** wouldn't suffer in solitude. And so, the Hero of Light and Twilight died. It's wasn't a bodily death, though; it was much worse. His soul, the proud soul of a selfless defender, died, leaving only it's still-warm shell to stalk the land.

A cruel smile gracing his lips, the fallen hero brutally ripped the clawshot free from the creatures neck, metallic talons still closed. Screaming, the beast fell to the desert floor, desperately trying to staunch the river of blood cascading down it's back. "That looks bad. I think you should lie _**DOWN**_!" he spat as he slammed his shield into the back of the creatures head as it was rising to run, still believing it might survive this encounter. As the beast coughed and sputtered, trying to regain it's feet, he brought the clawshot out once more, calmly moving to stand in front of the beast, a few feet away from it. Raising the tool-turned-weapon once more, he fired into it's face. The sickening sound of the metal claws ripping into the goblin's eyes and nose would have gagged most, but Link reveled in it, now. As the monster was drug across the sands, it left a trail of blood in it wake, pooling in trench it's body carved through the sands. As the beast approached, Link raised his sword and impaled it's gut, releasing the claw once more, then kicked the limp body from his blade, ripping sideways as he did so, nearly tearing the soon-to-be corpse in half and leaving it lying at an almost ninety degree angle as it took it's last, labored breaths.

He should have been horrified by his actions, but he wasn't. He only felt the emptiness from moments ago returning. An emptiness that needed to be filled again. He would find more of the disgusting creatures. The hole she'd left in his heart would be refilled with the blood and screams of his foes, and if it kept emptying out, he would just have to keep refilling it. A twisted smirk adorning his face, the one-time hero tromped off into the desert. His mind soaked in a bloody haze, imagining the delightful terrors he would bring down upon his next opponents, he failed to notice as the luminous blade in his hand dimmed and grew heavier, nor did he notice as the symbol of the goddesses upon his left hand, the triforce, gave one last, faint burst of light before dimming and fading from his skin completely. But worst of all, he had failed to notice a flash of light that erupted into the sky behind him as he met the initial charge of the beasts moments ago, his eyes having been closed in concentration on the enemy before him. And he'd failed to note the sound of glass scraping against glass ringing out into the dry air, as his ears were too focused on the sound of the creature screaming out it's pain at the end of his metal claws. Only five on-lookers atop the ancient prison observed the first of these things; five shimmering, bodiless beings cloaked in light, joined in the hero's last moments by a sixth. A dark beauty cloaked in sorrow, her eyes wide, wet and disbelieving.

**A/N:** O-kaaaaay, so that was dark. I'm a little freaked out that all of that flowed out so naturally, that all that lovely darkness came from me. Joy of joys . ... well, over all this was quite enjoyable. It was also my very first ever fic, so I'm more than open to critique. And feel absolutely free to flame; it's cold in this room. That, and I'm more than liable to simply absorb your flame-material to improve my own abilities, like some kind of insult-comic Borg. Damnit; now I wanna watch Star Trek. And for some reason, thinking of Borg is making me want a Dairy Queen Oreo Blizzard. Don't know how mu mind came to link _**those**_ two things together... my eyeballs itch...

Completed March 14th, 2011


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